Wine Stains
by Lady of The Wind Dweller
Summary: "Like the cold blessing of water in the heat of summer, like the first warm rays of the sun after the icy grip of winter. Like power and courage, and everything. Like Destiny. " ..Arthur survives Camlann and the two halves finally unite. MERTHUR.


**A/N: Yeah.. I couldn't help myself, I just had to write this one-shot. I felt like cooking up my own little Merthur delight for once, and this is what came out. A little too mushy and fluffy but oh well... I hope you guys like it.**

**Also..I know it's summer right now..but I just felt like winter, haha.**

**I don't own Merlin, no matter how much I wish I did.**

* * *

It was late November and winter was galloping towards Camelot like a white stallion. All powerful and full of grace.

Things have settled down since Camlann.

Altough wary of the soon-to-be-falling snow, which will condemn the people of Camelot to their humble houses for at least two months, not one face was without a smile, be it a servant's or a noble's.

Since Merlin's status has been changed from manservant to the King to that of Royal Court Sorcerer, the warlock has been finding himself with too much time on his hands.

Not to say that a Court Sorcerer's job was an easy one, perish the thought..but the long-awaited repealing of the magic ban had finally appeased the magic community. Now, Merlin found himself investing his magic more on discovering new spells and improving old ones.

He was sort of trying to write his own book of spells, which Gilli kept joking that it was an unnecessary action, seeing as only he was able to perform his spells, anyway. Which, clearly, was _not_ true.

And when he wasn't spending his time filling endless pages with his chicken scrawl, Merlin found himself taking strolls through the castle, mainly at night, thinking.

Because although everything was brilliant now, Merlin's nights were full of nightmares.

What if he'd failed? He kept shuddering at the thought that, if he hadn't thought of calling Kilgharrah from the start, after Morgana had scared their horses, Merlin would have surely lost his King.

The dragon had flewn them all the way to the Isle of Avalon, despite its weariness.

He told his dragonlord – while Merlin was struggling to get an uncounscious Arthur down from the creature – that it was his last gift to the warlock as well as to Albion.

Another sorrow that kept Merlin awake at night. The loss of his soul brother, of his kin, had left a gaping little Kilgharrah-shaped hole..another hole to the many others which adorned his chest.

Sometimes, he wondered how did the others not stop to gawp at him?

But there was another thing which kept itself stubbornly at the front of the warlock's mind.

Arthur. His Arthur.

All that happened, their desperate rush to the Isle of Avalon, their heartfelt discussions along the way, Arthur's gratitude and awe.._that_ something which Merlin saw in Arthur's eyes, that forced him to look away and swallow convulsively.

If only..if only.

He'd known, of course he'd known. How could he not, when his traitorous heart gave a start every morning upon entering the prince's – and later the king's – chambers..upon watching the half-naked God-like creature which lay tangled in soft, red silk, half-naked and mellow with sleep.

The unique Arthurian musk which seeped into his every pore when coming near to the prince, when spending too much time in his chambers.

He'd later sniff his clothes for hours and hours instead of sleeping, hand tugging lazily at his flushed member, eyes watery in shame but mouth open in lust.

He'd always locked that part away in the morning.

Another secret.

But now, now after everything..it scratched and clawed at his chest. The beast roared inside him and he found himself shamefully glaring everytime.

Everytime he watched her, vibrant and beautiful, soft locks cascading around her shoulders and golden crown sparkling upon her brow.

His very core would scream silently, sometimes forcing him to throw furtive glances around him, to see if someone heard it..the bitter monster in his chest.

Yes, Merlin was probably one of the few persons that had lost their smile along the way..

But he tried to keep it plastered on his face and it grew genuine only for his King.

He felt a guilty wave of satisfaction upon seeing Arthur's face brighten up everytime they saw each other. While hers hardened.

His eyes would sparkle again with that unnamed emotion, their light spreading upwards and encompassing his fair locks and golden, majestic crown.

And Merlin would die a little more of longing, on the inside.

He felt guilty, of course he felt.

He wasn't a monster. Gwen ..was his friend. Had been.

Once, when her eyes still shone with innocence, and her smile was warm and quick with compassion..when she loved Arthur for real.

His jealousy had been weaker then, when he knew that, at least, Arthur was taken care of..that he was loved.

But even then..even then, a part of his subcounscious knew where her true heart lay. Whom her heart desired.

It wasn't her fault, she lost herself in her fairytale love story, just like any girl would have..but unfortunately, while magic was real, happy fairytale-like endings weren't.

Tonight, his feet had carried him, without him knowing, to the King's ..and Queen's chambers.

He had no clue what he was doing here..he only knew that if he spent another second without seeing _him, _he would die.

His eyes flashed gold and the door opened itself soundlessly as he stepped over the threshold.

His eyes immediately flew over to the bed, expecting to find them cocooned in their warm nest, only to stop dead in his tracks.

The bed looked like it hadn't been touched ..and he realized that the chamber was bathed in soft light..from the fireplace and the many lit candles.

And then he felt them. His eyes on him.

He turned, and gasped. Arthur's usually blue eyes were almost black, staring at him hungrily.

The hair on the back of his neck stood while goosebumps appeared on his skin.

He worked his throat while never breaking Arthur's stare.

"Sire?"

Arthur never said anything and - oh, he was holding a wine cup – he took a sip of wine, pink lips turning crimson, only to be licked a few seconds later.

Merlin felt his breath stop, or maybe his heart.

No, no. His heart was beating, carrying all the blood south and Merlin thought that if only, if he could only taste those lips..just once, he'd give up his life to the Gods in a second. With no regrets.

Finally, Arthur made his way to the warlock which was frozen in the middle of the room.

His steps were sensual but powerful, long fingers caressing the rim of the cup tenderly.

"Merlin."

They watched each other, eyes never faltering while a heavy tension filled the room.

Merlin was tingling everywhere. A part of him could not believe what was happening.

His body trembled with anticipation and dread. Dread that everything was a farse. That Arthur had reverted to his prattish ways and was making a fool out of Merlin.

But Arthur would never do that. And his eyes..his eyes shone with truth.

. No, he couldn't.

"Arthur, we shouldn't." The monster shrieked in his chest, calling him a traitor and an idiot, but his honor nodded approvingly.

But Arthur's eyes never dimmed.

"I have made a mistake, Merlin." His words were softly murmured and yet they echoed around Merlin for an eternity.

His right hand, the one which wasn't holding the cup, raised towards Merlin's face, hovering slightly before lightly caressing a high cheekbone.

Merlin finally broke the eye contact, closing his eyes and leaning his head into Arthur's warm hand, nuzzling his face on Arthur's palm.

His heart stuttered at Arthur's words, only to pick up again at a double pace.

He kept his eyes closed while his King's fingers danced over his face, under his eyes.

"And I almost payed for it dearly."

Warm fingers tilted his chin up and he opened his eyes, gazing into Arthur's endless ones.

"I almost died without telling you how much I.." Arthur's voice broke, the sound raw and tugging at Merlin's heartstrings.

A tear sliped down his left cheek, only to be catched by Arthur's index finger.

He opened his mouth to tell Arthur..what? He didn't know what to say..everything and nothing, all at once.

He gasped as he watched Arthur bring the finger to his mouth and suck his tear away.

And then his brain stopped working and he felt that he couldn't..he couldn't breath if he didn't..

Their lips locked and began moving desperately in a frenzy of harsh breaths and smacking sounds.

Arthur's hands buried themselves in Merlin's hair, gripping so tightly that pained sparkled down Merlin's spine. Delicious pain. Pleasure.

His own hands clutched at the blonde as if he'd never let go..and he knew..he knew in that moment that he never will. Not even on pain of death.

Arthur was _his_.

Arthur was his and the monster crowed in victory in his chest, before chocking due to lack of breath.

But air was unnecessary. The only thing he needed to survive was Arthur.

His lips. Deliciously warm and plush.

Arthur licked at the seam of his mouth and Merlin opened readily, with a soft, wet moan.

His tongue.

Oh.

Swirling with his, plundering his mouth. Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur's neck while he chased after Arthur's true taste, beneath the mask of the bitter flavoured wine.

And there it was. Like the cold blessing of water in the heat of a summer day, like the warm rays of the sun after the icy grip of winter. Like power and courage, and everything. Like destiny.

He sobbed into the kiss, tears cascading down his cheeks and into their mouths, mingling with their saliva as their tongues battled for dominance.

Arthur cupped Merlin's face and made a soothing sound, finally breaking the kiss.

They were both ruined. In appearance as well as on the inside. They were ruined for anyone else.

Lips swollen and red, eyes heady with love and lust, both watery. Even if Arthur's never shed their tears.

Arthur smiled softly and touched Merlin's lips, and Merlin returned his smile, goofily, brilliantly, taking Arthur's fingers in his mouth and suckling them.

And then, Arthur's eyes darkened again, and he bent down and plunged his tongue where his fingers had been a second ago.

The strokes of his tongue in Merlin's soft, wet cavern spoke _"You're mine"_ and Merlin's sang _"Yours, forever"_, and they clutched at each other while the sound of the door clicking shut was swallowed by soft mewls and wet kissing sounds.

The cup of wine lay forgotten on the floor,red drops staining their trousers and the white fur they were standing on.


End file.
